Till there was you

Our Story

I open a big notebook. . . where I wrote our story. Since we met, until he disappeared. 

I wrote the story with every detail I could possibly put: His face, his soft fur, soft paws, his reactions. I remember everything very clearly. . . I remember him. Our story takes half of the notebook. In the other pages are lots and lots of drawings I made of Collin.

The first ones are bad, but the last ones are very realistic, with his fluffy gray tail that one day I accidentally stomp, his emerald eyes that I looked every morning and his always beautiful smile I really like. I read that notebook every night, the same story day after day, for the past years.

I wake up. But I stay lie down on my bed, looking at the rest of the white sheets next to me. Looking where my wolf supposed to be sleeping. . . I stay staring at the empty space for a long, long time.

Finally, I pull myself up from the bed and walk into the kitchen. I slowly prepare a bowl of cereal and sit on one side of the table, looking at the empty chair in front of me. Eating slowly, hearing nothing but me chewing on the cereal.

Once I finish, I stand up and walk into the living room. I turn on the TV and set the volume almost in max, like I used to. –Speaking of wich, a new case of a missing person has been reported yesterday. The sister called the police at times of 7 in the morning, but the family is-

I drop the remote control on the couch and walk outside my house. I stand up looking at the lake. I remember Collin next to me, making the yoga-breathing exercise. I remember me fishing on the boat with Collin next to me. I remember Collin. . . I swipe a tear from my eye and grab my axe.

I start walking deep in the forest, straight, hoping to find a bear or something. I really don't know what I'm doing, I'm just walking deep the forest, looking if something happens. Then I made a U-turn, walking back, straight, where I came from. And nothing happens.

I throw my axe very hard to one side and walk back inside my house. I change of clothes and lie back down on my bed. I stay there, crying, lying on the right side, almost on the edge, of the bed for hours.

The room started, very slowly, getting darker. I suppose the sun is almost setting. But I stay there.

I open my eyes, I'm in the kitchen. I'm holding two bowls of cereal on each hand, and I look him. With a towel on his waist and his smile. I drop the bowls to the floor and scooped him in a hug, the sense of the coconut conditioner and the feeling of his fluffy-warm fur.

But when I open my eyes again, I'm on the floor. The cereal is spread everywhere and the house is cold. "Collin?" I call, but no answer. I walk to my room and try to open the door, but it's locked. I try to knock but I can't, there's something that doesn't let me to.

I'm dreaming. . . he's gone. . .

And I open my eyes again. I'm on the bed, the lights of the room are turned on, and something hits my back with a muffed sound. I stay lie, my mind has been tricking me like that since Collin's disappeared. 

Then something hits my back again, with the same sound, a little harder this time. 

And something hits my back again, but now with different sound and shape. "Sorry for the change but the Pet's shop ran out tennis ball" I hear behind me.

I quickly turn around. The silver ring on his finger, ears flattened down and his always beautiful smile.

"Collin . . ."